


Walking in Their Footsteps

by Talonpoppy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: First writing piece for a fandom . ., Gen, Hope it's cohearant, first au, have no idea what i'm doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:57:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talonpoppy/pseuds/Talonpoppy
Summary: Chapter One - It appears a small child has fallen down . .Chapter Two - Wandering through the ruins with silent flowers all aroundChapter Three - Boo! I'm a friend!





	Walking in Their Footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope you enjoy the piece, and any comments be good or bad, as long as they're constructive, are really appriciated! My AU was originally posted on the Undertale Amino (Well the prologue and Chapters 1 n' 2) in responce to their Soul Games, hence why I'm using the Integrity Child. 
> 
> For those who are wondering I wanted to follow in the estimated time line of the universe (least from what me and my friend could decipher), that meant that by our theory, the only characters alive when the integrity child falls would probably be Toriel, Asgore, Gerson, and maybe W.D. Gaster and his followers. I'm also placing this in the research time of when W.D. Gaster looked into the determination experiments, so don't be surprised if you find some random work notes scattered throughout later work on this. 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!

Prologue - A pair of old dancing shoes

Integrity the trait of keeping a strong value to one’s morals, but also that of one who seeks the truth. A fascinating trait indeed. And in waterfall you may come across a pair of old ballet shoes and an old damaged tutu, these, my friend, once belonged to a child with such a soul. 

Their story we know only but the end, a tragic fate to a king unwilling to face his sins. But if you share this souls glowing call, then please, grab a chair, lend an ear, and stay a while. So that we may all hear the story of one of the children that came before Frisk’s fateful fall.

Chapter One. A silent call.

She stares at the whispering woods, walls of texts and stories echo in her thoughts. What wonders this mountain lent for a child. The tales echoed in a parents hushed whisper, a warning scowl to any question that vaguely inquired about the events that occurred so long ago. How this displeased the child so, what use was there in hiding the truth? Was it really worth the stern voices and disapproving looks whenever she searched for these hidden answers? 

The child pokes her head out to look along the quiet country road. She heard no rumble of tires, nor the harsh gleam of the tardy bus rushing from a distance. Alone, an idea she’d long since grown accustomed to. Alone to find her truths, alone to search for hidden pasts, a dance of mournful grace that no crowd would ever gather to see. 

Once more her gaze is drawn to the forest. It scours over the swaying trees of green, whose leaves had just a small glaze of orange and yellow, warning of the bitter wind that would soon come in the following weeks. Birds call sleepily in the scarlet glow of twilight, as those to soon walk the night slowly rouse. 

You’ll find that it takes only one second to change one’s life. A thought and a decision, a movement towards the unknown. A lunge towards your heart’s call of truth. For this child it was two steps back, into the underbrush and trees, her final sight of the road vanishing as she turns and runs towards a place of secrets. Towards a truth that may have been best left alone. 

Chapter 2. Falling down.

Branches and thorns tear at her flesh, the unforgiving growth of nature warns of her foolish quest towards the mountain’s peak. And yet a strange drive filled the child; the feeling was exhilarating, the warm flutter of her heart pounded in harmony with each hastily taken breathe. 

The child slows as the underbrush gives way to gently sweeping grass; a cave yawns just past the uphill field.  
The girl takes a small step forward, her gaze drifting down as a strange texture rubs gently against her leg; it was smooth and help a wisp of the early morning’s drizzle. Bending down, she parts the grass to find a small golden flower.

It was a simple six leaf flower, the petals shimmer as if on fire when a glimpse of the sun glances off of it. The child recognized the flower, it was one she’d seen in her town. She knew that this particular flower was incredibly resilient, keeping it’s bloom even in the dead of winter. It’s presence here was a bit confusing, considering she had seen no sign of the flower before. Maybe a stray seed found its way to the mountain top. 

Maybe. If it weren’t for the small line that led up to the cave. 

Strange. The child tilts their head, her gaze following the line with increased suspicion. There was no way this could be a natural formation, it was too . . .well not perfect, but way too coincidental to not have been done on purpose by someone, or something. What could cause such a thing? It seemed that more questions where appearing than answers.

“Well just sitting here doing nothing will get me nowhere.” She thinks as she rises and brushes off the small patch of dirt that had collected on her tutu. If only the bus had come, she’d forgotten her normal clothing at home, and the walk from where she practiced was already at the limits of the local bus system. “To late to turn around.” She whispers, as she begins to follow the trail of flowers to the gaping mouth of the cave. 

The little light left in the sky had faded into a dull blue glow, the child couldn’t see much ahead of her, but a pull from her chest guided her to tentatively push forward into the yawning darkness. 

The symphony of plops and drops echo softly in the faded cavern. The darkness swallowed any picture of life, leaving the child alone to their slow footsteps. “Why am I doing this?” She ponders with every step, what truths could be found in the back of a cave? What answers could her slowly adjusting vision find?

Thing is, one whose head is in the clouds will often times be so focused on their thoughts, that the world around them seems to move in a surprising fashion as they tune out reality and focus on dreams. Dreams that consume you, until the world wakes you up and you find yourself falling

Chapter 3. Boo.

Light. It floods the child senses, thrashing it’s white tendrils into the deep abyss of sleep she had been experiencing just moments before.

That’s not right.

A harsh cold breeze is pulled into her lungs as she stiffly rolls onto bruised knees. She coughs, her body rejecting the cold moist air in a bought of surprised huffs. She must have passed out, but when? 

The child rubs their hair softly in confusion as they collected their scattered thoughts.  
“I fell. . . “ Her eyes squint in pain, the low pulsation of a headache clutches her from delving into much past her descent into darkness, and waking up . . here?

“Grah.” She clutches her head as the pain continues. Stiff joints object to her movements, just how long had she asleep? The child closes their eyes focusing on soothing the throbbing pain. It sluggishly subsides, but still echoes threatening of any further attempts of her trying to look back. 

“Just where am I?” She questions to the vacant room. Her only answer is the soft shuffle of golden flowers just beneath her feet. Golden flowers. . .A faint blur of a golden line scraps through her mind causing violently slams her with more thobs. Cringing as they pushed themselves forward, the child almost sprints out of the room, hoping that if they abandoned the scene the haunting pain would finally subside. 

“Where indeed?” 

A deep velvet glow illuminates the child’s form as they traverse the cool interior of what they could only describe as ruins. The crumbling structures stand in a slow decay among the lonely purple glow; the child slowly feels more and more unsettled as they tread the uneven path. What could make such things? And why would they leave them to such decay? The child ponders as they peer at the fractured walls. 

“Oh dear, oh deary me.” The sudden appearance of a soft, but noticeable voice makes the child stumble in alarm. Looking for a cover in their panic, they lunge towards a reasonably sized rock and wait with staggered breathes for the speaker to pass. 

“I could’ve sworn she’d be around here.” The voice fusses as it gradually moves closer to the child’s hiding place. “Miss.Toriel?” A moment of shock passes through both parties as a transparent entity passes through the child. 

The girl shrieks stumbling once again, except this time hitting a rock who grumbles in disagreement, “watch it girly.” 

The figure wails in an eerie dismay. “Oh no. I’ve done it again. Are you alright? I never meant to startle you, I get so forgetful these days.” A small ghost rambles on completely distracted on what they did, that they failed to recognize who they did it to. 

The child stares petrified, trying to contemplate which was more terrifying, the rock that spoke, or the classic halloween bed sheet ghost. She had no choice as the “ghost” finally slows down their stream of babble and actually notices the tall child that they’d floated through.

“Oh. . .” A gradual recognition of the foreign being came upon the ghost who glides back. “You’re not . . .from here. . . .” They tilt their head, “are you?”

The child stays quiet in complete fear of the ghost,creating a rather awkward silence between the two. The ghost seemingly pales as the silence prolongs, though to the child it seems that they just seemed to gradually get more see-through.. 

“Uh . . . “ The ghost shifts uneasily to the side, “sorry, sorry. It’s just I thought I knew every monster here. Not that there’s many, I mean there’s ol’ Gambit n’ his assembly of Frogits, the dancing cult of hive minded Migosps. Every now and then you may run into a Whimsum; though they don’t like to really have much of a conversation. The Moldsmols and Vegatoids are fun to run into, always up for conversations those two. And then you have the Looxs, though I try to stear clear of those crowds, always so rude, n’ never likes when you put em’ in their place for it.” 

The child blinks as this ghost rambles on and on about everything, but also nothing as well. Names in the dark you could say, no face to match them to or voice to remember. The child fidgets slightly, she didn’t want to seem rude, but from what she’d seen thus far of this creature, something made her certain of one thing, if she didn’t speak, he’d probably ramble for a good hour.

“Um . . .sir. . .”

“You know the Loox still owe me some money from that on-.”

“Sir?” The child raises her voice in a gentle crescendo to grab the ghost’s attention. The ghost stops, finally realizing that yes, this creature could talk, and that he was talking over it.

“Oh. Sorry again. I get in such a ramble, I mean I’m sure this happens to-”

The girl raises her hand to the ghost, while clearing her throat, making him subside his flurry of words, “Could. . .you tell me your name . . .” She looks cautiously around at the ruins, now uncertain of just who else could appear, “and perhaps where we are?”

“Oh, how rude of me, ma’ma always said I was terrible with manners, head always up in the clouds.” The ghost clears his throat, though to how and if he had a throat was beyond anything the child could imagine, “My name’s Dapperblook, traveling snailsman at your service, and this here, be the ruins of Home.”

“Home?” The child inquires, tilting their head to the side.

“Yes, home. Ya’ see the king never did have much a way with words, but rather have a king who’s terrible at nam’in stuff, than one who’s cold hearted, ya know.” Dapperblook shakes their head, “anyway, what be your name darlin?” 

The child stays silent their face taught, the block she’d faced when she woke still persisting to hide anything from her, even the simple title she’d grown so used to being called, was an opening to the phantom blades. “I. . . I don’t know. . .” She looks up at Dapperblook a mix of fear and pain causes tears to form at the edge of her eyes, “I woke up here, and that’s all I know.”

Dapperblook hovers down beside the girl, who flinches with unease, “Well I can’t just be call’in ya girly, n’ child ain’t somethin’ I’m too used to, so, why not Boo?”

“Boo?” The child repeats, unsure of the word.

“Ya. Was my ma’s name. Mind if I call ya that?”

“I guess?” Boo answers in an unsteady tone. Dapperblook smiles warmly.

“Well Boo. Would you like to meet the queen?”

**Author's Note:**

> Log entry XXX1
> 
> “From the 4 souls we’ve collected thus far, it appears that they’re still as strong as the day our king . . obtained them. Unlike a monster soul, these human souls have a strange color pallet to accompany their souls resilience after death. When I spoke with the few remaining monsters from the war they recalled 7 different colors that dominated each soul. From their testimonies and my own observations of each human soul thus far, it appears that a color could represent a dominate trait that a human possesses. However this is speculation and I assume there will have to be many more tests, to come up with a more. . . conclusive result.”
> 
> Log Entry XXX2
> 
> "It appears there's been a disturbance in sector 3, a small moving form has appeared to have fallen down. I wonder if it's another human? Or it may be just a lost forest creature, though that would be strange, few venture this far unless madened or diseased . . . I will continue to observe with what few cameras I have there, though the data may be scattered due to my inability to repair what little gear I have down there. . . "


End file.
